There were some Low Points (Day 12)

They even have their own cross in Sudbury

                 The first leg of the tour was over. After having mooched of off the generosity of parents, friends, uncles, and well-wishers, it was time to depart into the great unknown. Our destination was Sudbury, Nickel Town as it is commonly known, to play at the appropriately named Little Montreal Café.  It was the end of the many luxuries we all take for granted, such as hot water, a fully equipped kitchen, and air conditioning, to sleep in tents, eat canned beans for breakfast, and shower with the hose. 

                An hour outside of Toronto, the landscape began to change and wilderness became denser. As if to celebrate our arrival to the North, a black bear darted onto the highway and into our path. Greg slammed on the breaks, swerved the car to the right to safety. Fortunately, there were no cars to the right of us, but it was a warning sign all the same. We weren’t in Indiana anymore. 

                We arrived at the campsite at five. Greg parked the van outside of the registration building, went inside to pay for our stay, and returned to the van. As Greg was backing out, we heard a quiet bang against the back door. Thinking we had only hit a small tree, I went to check out what had happened. The entire back right window was shattered. It had been punctured by a long steel polled which was used to close off the road. Fortunately, Sudbury was a short drive away. We went to the nearby Canadian Tire to find a solution. Two roles of duct tape and a reusable shopping bag later, we had solved the problem. Red Green would have been proud. 

The Problem

How many rockstars does it take to fix a broken window?

                After all of the challenges of our first day on the shield, I was eager to get to the venue and down to business.   Little Montreal was a quaint little spot, half bar/restaurant, serving smoked meat and alcohol. There were portraits of Leonard Cohen, Celine Dion, and Oscar Peterson, as well as a painted backdrop of Montreal behind the stage. It was as if we had never left home. 

We had arranged the show through a local metal band called Set. They prepared a special acoustic set as Little Montreal’s little sound system couldn’t  handle all of the Gs they desired to pump through it. I didn’t even know acoustic metal was possible, but their unplugged set sounded surprisingly good. Next was an Alexei Martov style set with Greg alternating between violin and drums. For their last song, the Road, Matt Dowling took to the drums and Greg the base. Although they couldn’t match the tight rhythm of Jonah and Matt Dorfman, they held their own all the same.

Eating discount pizza in a stoop will be a common activity over the next few weeks

Last came the Argyles set. There had been ten people in attendance during the evening—a solid crowd, although far from our best. We started with our usual One Down/I’ll Take It combo, which I felt went extremely well. I had no need for a mic and thus was free to jump around and dance to my desire. But as Beta-Male began, people began to take off in the middle of our set. I felt my own energy dropping as this occurred and Greg was bothered by it as well. What was the point of working hard, getting all sweating, and blowing to the point of almost passing out, if no one even cared enough to stay? 

Greg's newest creation, made of lemon water and whisky

We continued on with a few more songs, but I lost my desire to play. Greg had as well, cutting several verses from Headfull and Lights. In the end, we played only six songs. As we descended from the stage, my fatigue came back and all wanted to do was get out of there. While we loaded the van, even worse feelings of doubt set in and I wondered why the hell I was on tour in the first place. It was the worst I had ever felt after a performance.  These feeling persisted as I drove everyone back in the van and when we were all seated in our crammed little tent. But as we began to unwind, joking around and discussing our plans for the future over glasses of Lemon Club, I had a change of heart. This wasn’t so bad. 

They are starting to get tired of my picture taking